


Sacrifice and Consort

by Starofwinter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Altar Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Consensual, Elder God, Forests, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pagan Gods, Ritual Public Sex, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: They'd answered an ad looking for someone who wanted a purpose.  This wasn't what they were expecting, but it seemed like a win-win scenario.





	Sacrifice and Consort

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no idea why I wrote this. Have fun!

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

* * *

The circle is already formed when they get there.  Everyone is in robes, standing around an altar made of stones peeking out of dirt and moss - it looks  _ old _ , and suddenly it strikes them just how crazy all of this is.  They’d answered an ad, asking for someone looking for a  _ purpose _ ; they’d assumed it was some church or pyramid scheme, but they were looking for a sacrifice.  It sounded crazy at first - get killed by a pagan god or be his consort - but hey, it wasn’t like they had anything better going for them right now, it was a win-win scenario, and at best, a wild story to tell their friends.

Now they’re here, and it sounds wild in a totally different way.  People are chanting along with the low drone of some kind of instrument, and heavy incense that makes them dizzy.  Still, they feel pulled to the altar. They take off the soft green robes they’d been given and lay down over it, closing their eyes. 

There are hands running over them, stroking over their skin in a gentle, firm massage, and between that and the incense, every bit of tension and confusion washes out of them.  Thick oil, heavy with the smell of the forest, runs over their skin, from the small of their back and over their ass, soaking them. It feels hot, and every inch of them that it touches tingles.  “ _ Fuck- _ ”  Suddenly, they  _ need _ more, they need the hands on them, need to be touched and fucked- they need to be  _ full _ , so much that they’re begging already- 

Then it stops.  The hands are gone, the voices are quiet, there’s absolutely nothing but the sound of heavy footsteps and something massive moving through the forest.  They squirm, forcing themselves to look back, and they gasp as they see what - who? - is walking into the clearing.

The god is a deer, but not a deer.  He has a head like a deer, sort of, with shadows over bones instead of the tawny fur of a stag, but no deer has ever looked like  _ that _ .  Hungry and fierce, wolfish in a way.  Intelligent dark eyes look back at them, and they feel his gaze of run over them; they feel vulnerable, laid out on an altar, naked and covered in oil.  A ready and willing sacrifice, in exchange for peace. They’re too unfocused for their eyes to track him as he moves, but they feel him behind them, heavy muscle beneath soft flesh pressed flush to their thighs.  

The thick press of a cock at their hole makes them whimper - they're no virgin, but this is  _ huge _ and they ache as they're stretched open on something that was never meant for a human.  The droning chant starts up again from outside of the circle and with the thick, choking incense, and the sheer overwhelming pain and pleasure as every nerve in their body seems to light up at once is making their head spin.  Their arms give out, leaving them pressed into the earthen altar chest-first, and a heavy, thick-furred body presses down on top of them. It doesn't smell like the musky animal scent they'd expected, but like the forest itself - the sharp tang of pine sap, the sick-sweet smell of decomposing vegetation, the soft green scent of new growth - and it helps to focus them a little.  

The lord's cock is still pushing in, stretching them almost too much to handle.  He presses a bony hand to their belly, and they shudder as they realize he can feel himself through them.  Even as they do, warmth floods through them, a warm wave from where they're stuffed full all the way to their hands and feet.  In the wake of it, pleasure rolls through them like a wave, and they moan as the god pulls back before thrusting back in, hard enough to shove them forward an inch or two.  They’ve never been this  _ full _ ; it’s just what they’d wanted only minutes or lifetimes ago, with the god pressing endlessly into them, opening them up to his cock like they  _ were _ made for him.  

After that, everything blurs and flows together in endless waves of heat, and all they can do is take the slow, hard thrusts as the spirit fucks them, gripping their hips as he uses their body.  Even the soft fur against their thighs makes them sob, overstimulated and wanting  _ more-more-more _ \- 

They don't know if they come more than once or whether their first never ends; all they know is that they never want this to end.  “ _ Yours _ ,” they promise, “I'm yours.”  A laugh that sounds like wind through dry branches - or bones - rings through their skull, and another bright wave of pleasure twists through them. 

There are teeth in the back of their neck, too sharp and too many for a deer, and they cry out as the pain turns into bright pinpoints in their mind.  

The cock doesn't feel like too much anymore - if anything, it's not enough, and they clench around it, earning a low growl in their ear and claws pressed into the softness of their belly.  It makes them laugh, almost hysterical in breathless  _ hunger _ .  They  _ want _ more, and they want him to give it to them.  

They’re going to have bruises from how hard he’s thrusting, shoving their hips into the edge of the altar, and his hands tight on their body.  They couldn’t move if they wanted to, but it feels better to surrender to him, letting him give them all the ecstasy they can handle and more, until it’s  _ too much _ and everything fuzzes out into static and white light behind their eyes.  

When they open their eyes, the forest is silent-  _ not silent _ , they realize a second later, as sounds they’ve never been able to hear before filter in: the wind in the very tops of the trees, the feather-flutter of a bird’s wings, and a furry body slipping through the underbrush. 

They’re alone, but they know they aren’t  _ alone _ .  

When the breeze whispers their name, they follow it, deeper into the forest.

A consort and a willing sacrifice.


End file.
